Tuesday Mourning

Chapter One

“Uncle Frank,” my young nephew, Jason Adams yelled excitedly. The 9 y/o was disembarking from his flight. His mom had arranged for him to come and visit me for the first time and he would be staying for the summer holidays. The call from his mom two weeks before surprised me. She had never allowed me to spend any time alone with my nephew. She denies it but I believe that it was because I was gay. Her Church took a very conservative stance on homosexuality; to them the term homosexual was synonymous with the term pedophile. So my sis, while she knew that I would never hurt her son, she was also afraid of what the busybodies within the First Church of the Frigid Air would think if she let me spend any significant amount of time with him.

As Jason grew up, it became apparent that he would take after me when it came to who he was attracted to. I kept hoping that my sister would pick up on that and get him out of that church, where I had almost been destroyed as a boy. The church had had a long line of homophobic ministers. Even the newer ones that had come along preached that all homosexuals would go to hell unless they repented and became straight. They taught that if a boy felt same sex attractions, he could become attracted to the opposite sex if they had enough faith.

I know that was what they taught me. And I must confess that at one time I believed that too. It's hard enough to just be gay but to be gay and Christian is the hardest thing any boy will ever face. And most will be like me, hating themselves for being different. I spent countless nights alone in my room, praying and crying, asking God to make me normal. And see, my church was big into the prosperity gospel, what I call name it and claim it or gab it and grab it. They taught that if one had enough faith that God had no choice but to give you what you want, because He promised to bless His people. So it sounded so easy, all I had to do was have enough faith and God had to make me straight.

But things didn't work out that way. Not only did my attraction to other males not change but it got stronger. So when I was 13 years old, I tried to commit suicide. That is the dark side of Prosperity theology, especially for young gay Christian boys. I figured that if I didn't have enough faith, then God must have wanted me to go to hell, so I decided to just get it over with. Well, God soon showed me that He was okay with who I was because He had made me that way.

The wriggling, giggling nine year old boy in my arms brought me back to the present. “Earth to Uncle Frank. Earth to Uncle Frank. Come in Uncle Frank,” he chirped in his soprano voice.

“Sorry, buddy,” I said. “I was just thinking. You hungry?”

“Duh,” he giggled. “I'm a growing boy. I'm always hungry.”

Based on my sister's comments about him, he wasn't exaggerating. He could eat enough food to feed a small army. If it's true that boys' appetite's increase exponentially as they reach puberty, than my sister had her hands full.

“Whatcha wanna eat?” I asked.

“Taco Bell,” he said excitedly.

I smiled. “Taco Bell it is then.”

I lowered him to the ground and we went and found my car. I thought that Jason's eyes were going to fall out completely at the sight of my custom Ferrari f430 convertible.

“Toooooooo coooooooool,” he said in an awed voice, before getting in.

I got in my side and Jason sighed in pleasure as I started the engine. I looked to the side and noticed that he had sprouted an erection. This didn't shock me. I often had the same reaction to the seat vibrating underneath me. I decided not to embarrass him by mentioning it, so I merely put the car in gear and drove off.

“Hey, Jason?”

“Yes, Uncle Frank?”

“You want the top up or down?” I asked.

“Down,” he said. “I love convertibles.”

I smiled and clicked the button controlling the automatic roof. Jason looked in awe as the roof automatically folded itself down until the wind was blowing into our faces and through our hair. I looked over at the boy and almost gasped. He was stunning. Long black hair, brown eyes and he was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts.

After about 20 minutes, we arrived at the restaurant. As we walked in, I said to him, “Now I would imagine that your mom told you to go easy on the chow you order. Forget it. You order what you want, understand?”

Jason turned and stopped. He snapped to attention and gave me an exaggerated salute saying, “Aye, aye, sir.” Then he collapsed on the ground in a fit of giggles. I started giggling too. God, I love this kid, I thought.

Finally, we made it inside the Taco Bell and I will say that I'd had NO idea that a little body could consume that much food and live. It was truly an impressive display. He made me queasy just watching him. It's a good thing he's an athlete, I thought. He was quiet while he waited for me to finish my meager fare, at least meager in comparison with his.

The rest of the day we just chilled out at home and I allowed him to get settled in at my place and we could just talk and get to know each other. I knew that he had never been away from his mom before and I was hoping to head off any feelings of homesickness. I'd had this suggested to me by one of my band mates. And it seemed to work.

The next two weeks were pretty busy as I took him to a lot of places that he had always wanted to visit: theme parks, a local animal safari and anyplace else that struck his fancy. I felt Jason and I were bonding well. He was content to wander around with me, his tiny hand securely in mine. Yes we were bonding. I just didn't know how well we were bonding.

It was the beginning of the third week. Jason had spent most of the first two weeks sleeping with me, just like on a sleep over. So it surprised me when he said that he wanted to sleep in the guest room that night. He also surprised me by saying that he wanted to go to bed early after having a shower.

I heard him go into the bathroom and I heard the water start. All was quiet for about 15 minutes and then I heard a shriek of pain from the bathroom.

“UNCLE FRANK! HELP ME! GOD, IT HURTS!”
I sprang from my chair and entered the bathroom. There I found my nephew in the shower naked and wet, but wet not with water. There was blood everywhere. At first, I wondered where the blood was coming from and what had caused it. It was then that I spotted the razor blade in Jason's hand and then that the blood was coming from his penis.

Oh Lord no, I thought. He tried to cut it off and I have a good idea why. Damn those religious freaks. I looked around for something to try and staunch the bleeding. I finally settled for grabbing his worn briefs and wrapping them around the wound with my watch band. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him before I ran for the door. I took him down to the car and ran him to the hospital. I got stopped once but when I explained the situation, the officer gave me an escort to the hospital. We got him in quickly and he needed a few stitches.

As I sat in the waiting room, I pondered how I would handle this. I had a pretty good idea what had caused this. The boy was gay as I had suspected. As for the extreme way, he had tried to maim himself, it could only mean that he was attracted to me. No please don't get the idea that I am a saint. I greatly desired my nephew and under normal circumstances, I may have decided to let things develop in that direction. But these were not ordinary circumstances. At this point my nephew was much too conflicted about himself and his feelings to even attempt such a thing.

Finally, my musings were interrupted by a nurse. “Mr. Adams, you may come back and see your nephew now.”

I got up silently and followed the nurse back into the back area of the emergency room into a small room. Jason lay there naked except a bandage sheathing his tiny boyhood and scrotum. Just before I went to sit down, the doctor arrived. I introduced myself. The doctor's manner was serious and grave.

“Sir, your nephew is a very lucky little boy. If he had not screamed and you had not responded as quickly as you did, he would likely have bled to death,” she said. “However, as you may be aware, the law requires me to report certain injuries to them if there is the suspicion of abuse,” she paused before going on. “Sir, I am in no way accusing you of anything, but in my clinical opinion this injury is often attempted by male victims of sexual abuse. I also examined your nephew's anus and discovered that he has been penetrated in the past.”

Oh shit. I thought. Not again. Where the fuck do they find these guys? But outwardly I remained calm. “Were you able to tell how recently this has been done to him?” I asked.

“Yes sir. There are several things we look at. The anus is a tiny muscle called a sphincter. It is designed to expand and contract to allow waste materials to be eliminated. Sir, I am not one to make a judgment on someone's lifestyle but the anus was not made for intercourse.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well sir, in this case, the anus and rectum are not designed to stretch sufficiently to allow penetration by a penis, especially that of an older boy or an adult. The anus can tear and even if it does not, the repeated pushing in and pulling out of the anus can cause bruising.”

“What does that mean in Jason's case?” I asked.

“Allow me to show you,” she said as she led me into Jason's room.

She approached the bed and I noticed that Jason was laying on a bed with stirrups on it. She grasped one of Jason's heels and placed it in one stirrup and then did likewise with the other. All of a sudden I was able to see Jason anal region. I really didn't need the doctor to explain much more. My eyes told me all I needed to know. My suspicions were true.

“Sir, as you can see, there is a ring of very dark bruising surrounding the anus,” she used her gloved finger to trace what she was talking about. “This tells me that the boy has been sodomized a great many times.”

Then she pointed at Jason's anus itself. “Here I observed a couple of things. Firstly there are several fissures that have healed over. Secondly, you can see that the anal muscle looks very slack,” She looked to see if I was looking and I nodded.

She continued. “Mister Adams, it is my professional opinion that your nephew has been repeatedly sodomized by either an adult male or a male in his late teens. As near as I can tell I can estimate that the last time was probably 2-3 weeks ago.”

Bingo. I thought. Just before this sudden trip. My sis had discovered what was being done to Jason and had sent him here to me. And I had a pretty good idea who had been doing the sodomizing.

“Sir,” the doctor said. “Do you have any further questions?”

I shook my head and she left. I went over the bed and I removed Jason's feet from the stirrups. While doing this, a feeling of deep anger swept over me. I went and sat in a chair beside my sleeping nephew. I grasped his hand and held it. I lowered my head to rest on the sidebar on the bed. I said a quick prayer before raising my head.

Jason stirred after about 30 minutes. He looked ashamed as he saw me. I leaned over and whispered in his ear. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He smiled and relaxed and slowly sank into a light sleep.

Then there was a light rap on the door. I got up and answered it and saw two detectives standing there, an older man and a younger woman. The man introduced himself as Detective Cullam and the young woman as Detective Wilson.

“May we talk in private, Mr. Adams?” Cullam said.

The three of us approached the doctor who allowed us to use her office. As I sat down, I was awaiting the Inquisition. But strangely, it never came.

Instead Det. Cullam was shaking his head. “Mr. Adams, in my years as a detective, this is the strangest case I have ever run into.”

“How so?” I inquired.

Det. Wilson spoke then. “Well, when the hospital called and gave the information about young Jason, we did as we usually did and began to check things out. Jason had told the doctor that he was your nephew and that his mom had sent him to stay with you for the summer. As I'm sure you can understand, we see a lot of uncles and nephews that have no relation to each other. But your case turned out much differently than we thought.”

Cullam took up the account. “We found the information to get in touch with your sister, or to try to at least,” He stopped and looked to Det. Wilson.

“Mr. Adams, it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your sister passed away earlier today. The information we had was that she had been terminally ill for some time. I am very sorry for your loss.”

Cullam resumed speaking. “This is where the story gets strange. We got a call later from police there asking if Jason was with you. I told them that we had information that you were. It seems sir, that, until he came here, your nephew was the victim of repeated sexual abuse. The perpetrator is now in custody. It was the pastor of the boy's Church. The understanding we have from them is that your sister found out about the abuse and decided that the best thing at the time was to remove Jason from the situation immediately. That was why she sent him here.”

Wilson continued. “She knew that any allegations she made against the Reverend would not be believed, so, fearing retribution, she wrote a letter outlining her allegations and gave it to a friend, to be delivered to police upon her death. That was done and the good Reverend is behind bars. Now normally we would be seeking to do a preliminary interview with Jason as he is in our jurisdiction and the physical evidence was gathered here. But in light of circumstances, we can wait until Jason is ready for that. The police in the other jurisdiction have the letter which allows them to charge him. Again sir, we are sorry for your loss and for Jason's loss.”

“Thank you detectives,” I said numbly, as Cullam handed me his card, and they left. All my earlier anger at Jason's abuse was gone. It was replaced by the numbness of the idea that my sister was dead. Then the truth of the situation hit me, my sister had never intended that this was going to be just an Uncle/Nephew holiday. This was supposed to be a test run, to see if I was up to raising a nine year old boy. But that test run was over. Jason's welfare was now my full time job. Unfortunately, my first act as his guardian was to tell him the bad news.

I trudged sadly back to Jason's room. He was awake as I entered the room. He smiled at first until he saw my eyes brimming with tears.

“Uncle Frank,” he asked quietly. “What's wrong?”

I steeled myself. “Jason, did you know that your mom was very sick?”

He looked stunned. “Sick?”

“Yes Jason,” I said. “She was sick,” Then the tears began to flow. “Jason, your mom passed away earlier today. I'm so sorry.”

It took a few seconds for the full import of the words to hit him. He was suddenly all alone in a big, scary world. I could see him thinking and wondering what would happen now. Then he became frightened.

“UNCLE FRANK,” he screamed. “YOU CAN'T LET THEM MAKE ME GO BACK THERE! HE'LL GET ME! HE'LL THINK I TOLD!” Then he too burst into tears.

I held him as we both cried out our shared grief. When we had calmed, I began to talk to him. I explained all that had happened that day and what I thought it meant for us. I especially said that I thought it likely that he would be living with me for a long time. He smiled and asked if he could call me daddy. I said he could if he wanted, but he didn't have to.

At that moment, the doctor came in and said that all Jason's blood work had come back and he was in the peak of health and could go home. She also handed me a list of instructions that needed to be followed. She also talked me through changing the dressing. She handed me a long and loose fitting hospital shirt to put on Jason, explaining that he would probably want to refrain from wearing underpants until the wound had healed. I put the shirt on Jason and carried him out to my car. I laid him on the back seat. He was asleep as soon as the car started. I smiled down at him, then drove back home to put my new “son” to bed.